AFTERMATH 



341 



soon vanish in leaf smoke, and with chilled fingers 

 we tell the beads of the rosary of Winter berries. 



Outside the window the trellised vine loses its 

 last leaf and seems merely a part of its support, 

 and soon one twilight comes when the frost tra- 

 ceries upon the window-panes behind the flower- 

 pots in the foreroom conceal the wide outdoors, 

 and all the Summer left to us is of the heart. 

 Then the Magician bestows his final woodland gift 

 the fire -logs and from them springs the hearth - 

 flower called Love-of-Home, not to be lightly 

 gathered, but cherished in its haunt. 



